A Day Of Thanks
by dawn341
Summary: First season. Richie disappears just before Thanksgiving.


A Day Of Thanks by Dawn Cunningham

Standard disclaimers apply. Duncan, Tessa and Richie belong to Rysher. All other characters belong to me.

This story takes place during the first season some time after the episode Free Fall.

Many thanks to Angela Mull for letting me borrow the reasons why Richie hates hospitals from her story Flood.

* HL * HL * HL

A Day Of Thanks

He woke, confused and dazed, head pounding for some unknown reason, in the back of an alley, lying on the ground behind a dumpster. As he sat up he looked around searching for some clue as to his location. Darkness surrounded him, only a nearby street light provided any kind of illumination. He could feel the cold night air biting through his heavy jacket, see every breath in the air as he exhaled.

With a growing sense of panic, he realized that he had no idea where he was or how he got there. He couldn't even remember his own name.

Frantically he searched through his pockets looking for something that would tell him who he was but came up empty. No ID, no wallet, just some spare change in one pocket. Eighty seven cents. That wasn't going to last very long at all.

He felt something trickling down the side of his face. He reached up to brush it away but his fingers came away red. Even in the dim light he could tell it was blood. His blood. His fingers explored further along his face and into his hair where he felt a gash. It didn't feel too deep but it explained the blood and the pounding headache.

He struggled to his feet. The world swam before his eyes and he grabbed hold of the nearby dumpster trying to maintain his balance. The sudden dizziness caused his stomach to lurch and he fell back to his hands and knees as he violently threw up.

A hospital, that was what he needed. But he was suddenly assailed with a vision of himself being strapped down and helpless, a nurse injecting him with a needle while he struggled. His body started trembling and he knew there was no way he could force himself into seeking help at a hospital.

Once the trembling had stopped, he pushed himself back onto his feet. Again the world spun around but he closed his eyes until the dizzy sensation passed. He headed for the street but just before he reached it, he saw a police car go by. Acting on instinct, he jumped back into the shadows, plastering himself against the wall. Once again a vision assaulted him. He could feel the cold metal of handcuffs around his wrists, being forced into the back of a police car, staring at the metal grid dividing the car into two parts. He must have been arrested before. Maybe they were looking for him even now. Maybe he got hurt committing a crime.

With the police car safely gone, he cautiously headed out to the street. He needed to find someplace to clean up. He looked up and down the street hoping to spot something familiar. A few stores lined the street, nothing fancy. The whole area had a look of neglect. On the other side of the street was a gas station. Unlike newer stations, this one had restroom doors on the outside of the building. He hoped they kept the doors unlocked. He couldn't go in and ask for a key with blood running down his face.

He gave a sigh of relief as the door knob turned under his hand. He went inside and locked the door behind him. He looked into the mirror hoping to at least recognize his own face but a stranger stared back at him. The face in the mirror showed a young man, around 18 years old, with curly blond hair and blue eyes. He could see the hair matted down on the right side of his head, congealed with the blood he had felt earlier.

He turned on the faucets and attempted to rinse his hair and head. It wasn't easy with the small faucets to get enough water over his head. He finally grabbed some paper towels from a nearby receptacle on the wall and used them to remove all traces of the blood. He examined the cut on his head closer. It was no longer bleeding nor did it look too deep. There was nothing else he could do for it. He didn't have money to buy any bandages.

He headed back outside, unsure of where he should go. He had no idea where he lived or if he even had a home. He started walking down the street, looking for a safe place to spend the night, every step sending a stab of pain shooting through his head.

As he walked, the area changed from stores to various businesses and then to warehouses. He finally discovered a warehouse that looked abandoned, the doors and windows boarded up. It felt like he had been walking for hours but he couldn't be certain, he wasn't wearing a watch. It was missing just like his memory. He could see that he normally wore one from the strip of pale skin on his wrist.

He carefully checked out the building and found some loose boards across a window in the back. There was just enough room to squeeze through and once inside, he looked around. It was hard to see much in the darkness. He pried some of the boards away from the window he had come through to let light from the street lamps filter in. As he removed each board, the screech of nails being ripped from the wood filled the night. He paused after each board, waiting to see if the noise brought anyone to investigate.

Certain that no one else could be staying there, all that noise would have woke the dead, he decided that the place would be safe to spend at least the night. He cleared some space in a back corner and then piled empty boxes and trash bins around to create a barrier so he would not be visible to anyone else entering the building.

Finally, he felt that he had done all he could to protect himself. He laid down on a bed of flat cardboard boxes and tried to get some sleep. Now that he wasn't doing anything, the hunger in his belly became more pronounced as well as the pounding in his head, keeping him from reaching oblivion in sleep. He could feel the temperature dropping and he huddled deeper into his jacket trying to get warm. He couldn't seem to stop shivering and he had to clench his jaws to keep his teeth from chattering.

Finally, his exhausted body gave in. His last waking thought was that maybe he would remember something in the morning.

* HL * HL Earlier that day

Duncan closed the antique store's accounting books and shut the computer down with a sigh of relief. He had spent most of the afternoon bringing the accounts up to date. Fortunately it was Sunday and the shop was closed so he could concentrate on getting the task done without interruptions. Tessa had been busy finishing up a sculpture that she was working on and Richie had taken off right after lunch.

He thought fondly of the boy for a few minutes. Richie had started accepting more duties in the antique shop. It was now his job to open the shop each morning unless he made prior arrangements. Determined to teach him responsibility, Duncan and Tessa had refused to open for him when the boy had overslept several times the first week. Duncan had even gone so far as to dock his salary because of it. That had quickly caused Richie to change his ways. He hadn't overslept since then. Duncan and Tessa had appreciated being able to stay in bed a few extra hours in the morning. Duncan grinned. Maybe he should give the boy a raise.

He wandered through the living area and into the kitchen, surprised to find Tessa already working on making dinner. Usually, she had to be dragged from her art work at this stage in a project. He walked over and hugged her from behind. Reaching around, he snagged a cucumber slice from the pile in front of her. "Did you finish your sculpture?" he asked. He reached for another slice only to get his hand slapped.

"Stop that, Duncan. Yes, I finally got it done. All it needs is to be packaged up and sent out. I'll get Richie to take it to the UPS office tomorrow." Tessa smiled over her shoulder at Duncan.

"Speaking of Richie, is he back yet?" Duncan glanced at the clock on the wall with a frown.

"I haven't seen him. He said something about needing to do some shopping before he left. The stores should be closing now so I expect him back soon." Tessa glanced at the clock too. "Actually, I've been meaning to talk to you about something and since he's not around, this should be a good time."

"Oh no. What's he done now? Brought home a Great Dane?" Duncan asked, his tone half joking, half serious. The last time she had wanted to talk to him about Richie, they found out that the boy had smuggled a Golden Retriever he had named Sam into his room and into their lives. Richie had been heartbroken when the dog's real owner had showed up to claim him. Duncan didn't think he could handle that kind of aggravation or trauma again.

"He hasn't done anything and it's a Saint Bernard not a Great Dane." Tessa laughed at Duncan's shocked expression. "Just kidding, Duncan. No dog. He asked me the other day about what we did on Thanksgiving. After all, it's only four days away. I told him we didn't usually celebrate since it was an American holiday and didn't really mean anything special to us. He looked so disappointed that I felt guilty."

"Thanksgiving? I hadn't really thought about it. I suppose to Richie it would mean a great deal. Especially since this is the first one he will spend with us. He's probably built up some unrealistic idea of the holiday from watching too much television."

"Still it would be nice to do something special." Tessa thought back over the past months since the young thief had moved in with them. Their relationship with the young boy grew more secure as time passed. Sharing a Thanksgiving celebration would only help strengthen the bond between them. "It would make him feel more like a member of a family, of *our* family, if we celebrated Thanksgiving together."

"You may be right, Tessa," Duncan agreed. "I doubt he ever had much of a chance to feel like a family member in all of those foster homes he was in." Duncan remembered a comment Richie had made about how people never wanted foster kids around on holidays. It was one of the few times Richie had ever let anything slip about his past.

"I was thinking that we could make a traditional Thanksgiving dinner but I'm not really sure what the entails. I know the obvious, turkey, potatoes, gravy, stuffing but what else?"

Duncan thought back over other Thanksgivings he had shared with friends, long before he had met Tessa. "Cranberry sauce and corn bread. Oh, and apple cider."

"Don't forget the pumpkin pie." Tessa found herself getting excited about the project. "Why don't you start making a list, Duncan." She waited until he had returned with a pad of paper. "We'll need some kind of salad and vegetable but I don't know what's traditionally served. And we need to get some decorations."

"Maybe corn on the cob or green beans," Duncan suggested. "But I don't have any idea about a salad."

"Hmmm. Maybe I'll call a few friends tomorrow and see if they have any suggestions." Tessa looked over the list Duncan had made. "Don't forget to put down whipped cream for the pie."

"I think we should try to keep this a secret from Richie. Think what a surprise he'll have on Thanksgiving day." Duncan grinned at the thought. "I'll tell him I want to do an inventory that day since we will be closed. You know how much he hates doing that job. It will really get him worried."

"What do people do on Thanksgiving? While I enjoy how we usually spend the day," Tessa smiled at the memories of past Thanksgivings. "I think Richie may feel a little left out if the two of us shut ourselves up in our bedroom for most of the day."

"Football. They watch football on television. And the parades." Duncan remembered being in New York one year visiting Connor and seeing the Macy's parade in person.

"Football?" Tessa groaned at the thought. "Surely there are more traditional things to do. But watching the parades may be fun."

"Actually, I believe the women spend most of the day in the kitchen cooking while the men watch football." Duncan teased her.

"Well, if the men want to eat, they're going to have to help in the kitchen too." Tessa shot back.

"You know, Tessa, if we have this much fun plotting what to do on Thanksgiving, think about what Christmas will be like."

"Yes. It makes it so much more special to be doing this for Richie. He's had such a rough life and it makes me feel good when I see the joy on his face." Tessa smiled at Duncan.

"I know what you mean, Tessa. Having Richie here has changed our lives in ways that I would never have believed possible."

The two conspirators continued their plotting unaware of the passage of time. They were like teenagers planning their first party. Every detail had to be perfect. The ding of the oven timer brought their attention back to more mundane matters.

"I can't believe it's dinner time already," Tessa exclaimed as she checked the casserole in the oven. "But where is Richie?"

Duncan frowned at the clock. "Maybe he ran into some friends."

"But he's usually good about calling to let us know." Tessa felt the first stirrings of worry run through her.

"He must have just forgot or lost track of time." Duncan tried to convince Tessa as well as himself that there was nothing to be worried about. "Let's give him 15 minutes. I'm sure he'll turn up soon. Richie never misses a meal if he can possibly help it."

But Richie didn't show up. Duncan and Tessa went ahead and ate, still working on their Thanksgiving plans but neither of them could work up the same level of enthusiasm as before.

Another hour passed and still there was no sign of Richie. Duncan started calling Richie's friends but none of them had seen the boy that day. He called the police department and the hospitals to see if any accidents had been reported. No one matching Richie's description had been reported and the police told him he couldn't file a missing persons report until the boy had been missing for 48 hours.

Finally Duncan decided to go look for Richie himself. He promised to check back in frequently with Tessa and headed for the T-bird. He wondered if another Immortal may have grabbed Richie to use him as bait. Or even worse, what if another Immortal had sensed Richie's pre-immortal buzz? He knew some Immortals would think nothing of killing a young pre-immortal, wait for them to revive, and then take their head and their quickening.

He spent the whole night checking Richie's favorite hangouts and cruising around Richie's old neighborhood hoping to be able to sense the pre-immortal's buzz. He finally returned home at daybreak highly discouraged. He found Tessa asleep on the living room couch, the cordless phone clutched in her hand. A list of names and phone numbers, all but a few checked off, lay on the table beside her. He carefully removed the afghan draped over the back of the couch and covered Tessa with it before going to take a shower.

* HL * HL

He woke up again, screaming from the same nightmare that had plagued his sleep over and over that night. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, threatening to explode. The nightmare involved a man, dark hair worn in a ponytail, bare-chested, coming after him with a sword. Each time he woke as the sword sliced into his neck.

He lay shivering on his makeshift bed, unwilling to attempt sleep again for fear that the nightmare would return. He could see the sun starting to rise through the cracks between the boards covering the windows. His head still hurt but it seemed to be better than it had the previous night. But the hunger pangs had grown worse and he knew that he would need to find food soon.

He crawled through the window, making sure to prop the boards he had removed the night before back over the opening and went in search of food. He discovered a small deli style restaurant less than a mile from his hiding place. He searched through their trash bins feeling that he had done this many times before. In the second trash bin, he hit paydirt when he found four deli sandwiches wrapped in plastic, discarded because they hadn't been sold on the day they were made. He grabbed them and headed back to his hiding place.

He ate half of the sandwiches but left the rest for later in the day. With his hunger somewhat appeased, he decided to check out the warehouse more thoroughly now that daylight filtered in between the boards. He had a moment of panic when he discovered a hiding place similar to his own where someone else must have been staying. It wasn't until he noticed the layer of dust covering the floor that he relaxed. Whoever had been staying there must have been long gone.

He felt like he had hit the jackpot. A mattress, two blankets, two empty plastic containers, and a battered tin cup, greeted his eyes. He couldn't think of any use for the empty liquor bottles scattered around but the other items would be put to good use. He shook the lightweight blankets out and almost choked on the dust cloud that spread around him. When the dust had settled, he went to move the mattress only to discover that it exuded a stench that turned his stomach. He left it behind, grabbing the plastic containers and the cup, before retreating to his corner of the warehouse.

He examined the containers. They looked like gallon milk bottles but one of the them still had a label on it. He could barely make out one of the words: water. He cautiously sniffed at the containers wondering what they had been used for, but only the smell of plastic assaulted his senses. They would be perfect for storing water.

He set out to search the surrounding area and once again, his luck held as he found a small park with a shelter sitting in the middle of it. Using an outside faucet, he rinsed out his containers and filled them with water. He carefully took a sip and could taste nothing unusual. He took a bigger drink but decided to wait to see if any adverse reactions occurred.

He went into the restrooms and used the facilities. He then removed his jacket and shirt and gave himself a sponge bath, utilizing the paper towels and soap so thoughtfully provided by the city. Unfortunately, the city hadn't been so thoughtful when it came to providing hot water. Shivering badly, he put his shirt back on but at least he felt cleaner than when he started. He finger combed his hair as best he could while trying to avoid looking in the mirror at the stranger reflected there.

He grabbed his water containers and lugged them back to his new home. By the time he got there, his head felt like it would split open. He was so tired, the brief bouts of sleep between the nightmares the night before had not been enough to bring any relief to his weary body. He laid down and tried to get some sleep. Maybe the nightmares would stay away this time because, after all, it wasn't night. With that piece of irrational logic in his mind, he drifted off to sleep.

* HL * HL

After showering, Duncan headed for the kitchen and made a large pot of coffee. He knew that he would need the caffeine boost to keep going today. The smell of coffee woke Tessa and she stumbled into the kitchen trying to rub the sleep from her eyes.

"Duncan, where could he be? Something must have happened to him. He's never stayed out all night before. I've been calling the hospitals all night but there's no one who matches Richie's description. I even checked with the police to see if any of those gang members who were threatening us could be behind this, but the police said they were all still locked up."

Duncan took her into his arms. "I don't know, Tessa. I looked everywhere I could think of. All of the places he likes to hang out. Nobody has seen him."

"Do you think Felicia may have come back for him?" Tessa still remembered how close she and Richie had come to death at the hands of that Immortal.

"If it was Felicia, she would have wanted us to know that she had done it. Somehow she would have made sure that we knew that Richie was dead. And if it's some other Immortal who is using him as bait, I'm sure I would have heard something by now." Duncan tried to reassure Tessa.

"Unless they want to draw out the wait, keep you worrying, keep you from sleeping until they felt you were off balance enough to fight."

Duncan didn't know how to respond to that. She had a valid point. "If that is the case, all we can do is wait for them to contact us. Until then, you take extra care, Tess. If someone has grabbed Richie, they probably wouldn't hesitate to take you too. In the meantime, I'll continue to look for him."

"And I have a Thanksgiving feast to plan. I refuse to believe that Richie won't be back here safe and sound by then."

Duncan felt a surge of love wash through him at her steadfast refusal to believe the worst. Seeing that the coffee had finished brewing, he poured them both a cup. He dug a Thermos out of the cupboard and filled it with the rest of the coffee.

In the meantime, Tessa had been busy toasting bagels for their breakfast. As they sat down to eat them, she asked, "What should I do about the shop? We're supposed to open soon."

"That's your decision, Tessa, Either way is fine by me. It would give you something to do besides sit and worry all day."

"You're right, Duncan. It would be better to keep busy. I'll also start calling his friends again. I couldn't reach a few of them last night. Maybe one of them will know something."

"That's a good idea, Tessa. I'll keep checking back with you just in case you find out something." Duncan hugged Tessa before once again heading for his car.

* HL * HL

A nightmare jerked him awake once again. This one had started out so differently. He could remember a young woman with short dark hair. He felt certain that they had been lovers or else he had a very vivid imagination. But the dream had turned sour and he had been forced to watch helplessly while the man from his previous nightmares ran his sword through her body and then watched her crumple to the sand. Maybe that was the reason the man was after him. He had been an eyewitness to a murder. But how could he go to the police? He didn't even know his own name let alone the name of the murdered girl. They would lock him up in the funny farm for good.

He felt so alone. The thought of spending the rest of his life this way sent cold shudders through his body. Desperate for company, he fled his haven and headed back to the park.

As he neared the park, he could see children running around, laughing and playing on the swing sets. He found a bench where he could sit and observe their antics. For the first time since he had woken in that alley, he felt a smile curving his lips. Had he ever been that young and carefree? He wished he could remember.

If felt good sitting there. The warmth of the sunshine lulled him into a false sense of peace. He never wanted to move from that spot. It took a cloud passing in front of the sun to remind him of the realities of his current lifestyle. He needed to find some way to keep warm during the cold nights that he knew would only get worse. The blankets he had found earlier would help somewhat but they wouldn't be enough. Soon it would start snowing. He shook his head in disbelief. How could he remember that and not even remember his own name?

He spent the next several hours checking out the area around the warehouse, looking for likely places to return to once the businesses had closed down for the day. In the process, he discovered an area filled with restaurants, a potential source to find food later. He returned to his haven to wait until dark before he went on his scavenger hunt. He ate the rest of his sandwiches, drank some water and once again gave into his body's need for sleep despite the fear of the nightmare's return.

This time, the nightmares left him alone. When he awoke he could only remember vague dreams of a blonde woman. He wondered who she was. She seemed too young to be his mother and yet he also didn't believe they had been lovers either. Whenever he tried to remember more details, his head hurt worse than before. Giving up, he headed out to find things to make his new home more comfortable.

At one business, he found large bags of shredded paper set out for the recycling trucks to pick up. It took him several trips to get them back to the warehouse. At another business he found some large sheets of thin foam packing material. For a moment, he had a flash of himself using similar sheets to wrap around some kind of vases and statues. He took the sheets as well as some twine he had found back to his new home.

He looked over the booty that he had found and set out to make a more comfortable bed. He tore two long strips from a large piece of a cardboard box as well as two shorter pieces, each one about a foot wide. Using a short metal rod he had found, he punched holes at each end of the strips. He was stymied for a moment while he tried to figure out how to cut the twine into smaller pieces until he remembered the liquor bottles. He fetched one and smashed it against a nearby post. He searched through the fragments until he found one that was big enough to hold and had a sharp edge. Using this, he quickly cut the twine and knotted the cardboard pieces together.

He laid the framework on top of the stack of cardboard he had been sleeping on. Next, he emptied the bags of shredded paper into the framework, topping it off with one of the blankets. With the other blanket to cover him and the foam material as a final insulating layer, he felt satisfied that he would be warmer as well as more comfortable sleeping that night.

He headed back to the restaurants that he had spotted earlier that day. For some reason, the thought of digging through trash cans for food brought a wave of nausea. Maybe he wasn't hungry enough to be that desperate tonight. Instead he went from restaurant to restaurant offering to work for food. Wash dishes, bus tables, scrub floors. Each time, they quickly ushered him back out the door.

Discouraged, he made one final attempt at a small family run Italian diner. There he found an older woman, Mama Rosa, who took pity on him. In exchange for washing dishes, she promised to give him a hot meal. Four hours later, he found a huge plate of pasta waiting for him. He practically inhaled the food, he ate so fast. He could have easily eaten another plateful but he didn't want to push his luck. Mama Rosa insisted on paying him ten dollars because he had worked so hard and told him to come back the next night.

He made no promises, just headed back to his hiding place.

* HL * HL

Duncan and Tessa sat at the kitchen table both lost in thought. Neither of them made any attempt at eating. Duncan searched for words to comfort Tessa but nothing came to mind. He had spent the whole day looking for Richie with no luck. He had even tried going to the police again. He still fumed when he remembered that conversation.

* HL * HL * HL

"I'm sorry, Mr. MacLeod, there's nothing we can do until the boy has been missing for 48 hours. And based on his record..." The police sergeant shook his head.

"What do you mean?" Duncan practically growled at the man.

"Listen, the kid's been in so much trouble already. He probably got into some kind of mess and is afraid to come home or..."

"Or what?" It took all of Duncan's control to keep from grabbing the man by the throat. "Well...did you check to see if anything was missing from your store? Money or maybe some merchandise? Did he take his clothes with him?"

"Richie wouldn't do that," Duncan snarled. Actually, he hadn't even thought of checking Richie's room to see if the boy had taken anything with him.

"That's what they all say. That nice kid we took in wouldn't do anything like that. And it's usually that same nice kid who robs them blind and runs off. I've seen it all before," the Sergeant said in a cynical tone.

"Thanks so much for your concern, Sergeant." Duncan turned and stormed out of the police station.

Once home he knew he would have to check Richie's room. The Sergeant's words had placed a tiny kernel of doubt in his mind. It took him five minutes to get up enough courage to go in but everything looked normal. The room was much neater than Richie usually kept it but Duncan knew that Tessa had been hounding the boy and threatening dire things if Richie didn't keep it picked up. He didn't see any clothes missing and he felt certain Richie would never have left behind his music collection. Now he felt guilty for even thinking that the boy had run off voluntarily.

As Duncan carefully straightened the precariously stacked set of CDs on the dresser, he noticed Richie's set of keys sitting beside them. He tried to tell himself that it didn't mean anything. Richie could have just forgotten them. Or maybe he hadn't wanted to carry the keys around while shopping. After all, Duncan and Tessa had both been home on Sunday, with no plans to go anywhere, so they would have been there to let him in when he came home.

* HL * HL * HL

Now he looked over the table at Tessa. He hated to see that worried look on her face. Maybe if he distracted her... "So, did you find out any more information about Thanksgiving dinners?" he asked her.

Tessa looked startled for a moment, her mind obviously elsewhere. "Yes, several people recommended a green bean casserole. It sounds interesting although it isn't really traditional. Yams were also recommended."

"Did you add them to the list? And what about salads?"

"Yes I did. Nobody can agree on salads. Someone recommended a tossed salad, someone else mentioned something called a Watergate salad but it has pineapple in it and Richie doesn't..." She stopped short, unable to continue.

Duncan reached over and held her hand. "Tessa, are you all right?"

"I can't stop thinking about him. Wondering if he's hurt or even..."

"Try not to think about that, Tessa. I know we will find him."

"Can you stop thinking about it? If so, please tell me how to do it. I can't seem to manage it." Tessa pulled her hand away as her voice rose in anger.

Duncan rose from his chair and went to stand behind Tessa. Placing his hands on her tense shoulders, he started massaging them. "No. I can't stop thinking about it either," he admitted.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you, Duncan. I know you were trying to help." Tessa rose from her chair and hugged Duncan closely.

Duncan held her for several minutes before pulling away. "I need to go look for Richie. Will you be all right alone?"

"Duncan, you need some sleep! It won't help if you fall asleep behind the wheel." Tessa started to pull him towards the bedroom. "Tessa, I couldn't sleep. I have to find Richie," he protested.

"Fine, then just lay down for a few minutes. Please, Duncan, for me?"

"Well, maybe for a few minutes but I know I won't be able to sleep." He let Tessa remove his shirt and push him back onto the bed. He could feel her pulling off his boots before she brought a blanket over to cover him. Then he felt her climb in beside him and put her arms around him.

"Close your eyes for a minute, Duncan. Relax and let your mind clear." She softly stroked his cheek.

Duncan sighed. It felt so good to be lying here with her, listening to her soft French accent, feeling her smooth hand stroking his face. It was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep.

The phone woke them both up. Duncan reached for it but only managed to knock the receiver on the floor. Cursing, he practically fell out of bed trying to find it. "Hello," he growled into the receiver.

"May I speak to Duncan MacLeod?"

"Speaking. Who is this?" He glanced at the alarm clock. Two A.M.

"This is St. Timothy's hospital. We had a young man admitted tonight by the name of Richie Ryan. You are listed as the person to contact in case of an emergency."

"Richie? He's there? Is he okay?" Duncan, wide awake now, started struggling out of the blanket that encased him.

"He's listed in critical condition but I don't have any details."

"We'll be there as soon as possible." Duncan hung up the phone and saw Tessa watching him anxiously.

"Richie?"

"He's at the hospital. In critical condition. We have to go."

They quickly dressed and raced across town. Duncan ignored speed limits and traffic lights in his anxiety to reach the hospital. Once there, they had been directed by the nurse's station to a separate waiting room and told that the doctor would be out to see them shortly.

After thirty minutes of anxious waiting and three trips back to the nurse's station trying to get more information, a doctor came out to talk to them. Duncan guessed he was in his mid-forties and he looked like he had been up for too many hours.

"Mr. MacLeod?" The doctor asked.

Duncan introduced himself and Tessa.

"I'm Dr. Nelson. I'm sorry to inform you that your friend didn't make it." It sounded like he had made this speech too many times before.

Tessa gave a cry and turned her head into Duncan's shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist.

"What happened, Doctor?" Duncan asked as he tried to comfort Tessa, wishing they were alone so that he could tell her about Richie's immortality to ease her pain. His own anguish would not so easily be put aside. Richie was too young to become an Immortal. How could he possibly survive in The Game?

"He was stabbed multiple times. The damage was too extensive for us to repair. I'm sorry."

"Can...can I see him?" For a moment Duncan was assailed by the fear that maybe he was wrong. What if Richie wasn't an Immortal? What if he was really dead? He resolutely pushed that thought away.

"If you wish. I must warn you, it's not a pretty sight."

"Tessa, you had better stay here." Duncan wanted to spare Tessa the shock of seeing Richie's body. He also thought it would be easier for her to accept Richie coming back as an Immortal if she didn't actually see him dead.

"No. I want to see him too." Tessa got a stubborn look on her face.

Duncan knew better than to argue with her. He had seen that look before. Together they went into a nearby room with the doctor. The body was on a gurney in the middle of the room, a bloody sheet covering it. Duncan heard Tessa gasp beside him and tightened his grip around her waist as they moved closer to the gurney.

The doctor reached out and pulled the sheet back from the head. This time both Duncan and Tessa gasped together.

Duncan turned to the doctor. "There's been some kind of mistake. That's not Richie Ryan."

"Are you sure?" The doctor looked at him in disbelief.

"I think we know what our friend looks like, Doctor, and that's not him. There's a vague resemblance, same hair color and age but it's not him. Can we see the ID that he had?"

The doctor quickly covered the body back up and led them to his office. He spent several minutes on the telephone before turning back to Duncan and Tessa. "I don't know what to say. This has never happened to me before. Someone will be bringing his personal effects up here shortly. Can I offer you some coffee or tea?"

They both agreed to coffee and the doctor busied himself pouring it from a coffee pot sitting on a cabinet behind his desk. By the time he had finished serving them, an orderly showed up with a manila envelope. The doctor took it and dumped the contents onto the desk.

Duncan reached for the wallet. When he opened it, the first thing he saw was Richie's drivers license. Flipping through the wallet he saw a picture of himself and Tessa that Richie had taken one day with Duncan's camera. The next picture was of Richie hugging Sam, the dog still holding a Frisbee in his mouth. Duncan remembered taking the picture himself one afternoon when they had gone on a picnic. Feeling like he was invading Richie's privacy, he quickly looked through the rest of the wallet but found no clues.

Tessa had been looking at the rest of the items on the desk. "Duncan, look. It's Richie's watch." She handed it to him.

Duncan looked at it closely. It did look like the watch that he and Tessa had given Richie on his eighteenth birthday. He had teased the boy that maybe now he would manage to be on time. He turned to the doctor. "Maybe you had better call the police."

Several hours later, Duncan and Tessa returned to the antique shop. At least the police had agreed to look into Richie's disappearance now that there was some evidence of foul play. The police had also promised to inform them when they found out the identity of the young boy now lying in the morgue.

Duncan sat in the living room pondering his next move. While glad that the dead boy wasn't Richie, he had thought the waiting, the not knowing was over. Instead, it just came back even worse. He couldn't see Richie giving up his wallet or the watch voluntarily. Either they had been taken forcibly or removed after he was dead.

"He's dead isn't he?" Tessa's voice repeating his thoughts startled Duncan. "There's no other way he could have gotten Richie's wallet and watch." She sat down next to him and curled up in his arms.

"We don't know that for sure, Tessa. We can't give up hope yet. Richie's a smart kid. He knows how to survive on the street. He would have turned over his wallet in a second if it meant staying alive."

"Then where is he?" Tears streamed down Tessa's face. "Every time I go past his room I..." Her voice choked up and she couldn't continue.

"I know, Tessa. I miss him too." He couldn't believe how much he missed the tough street kid he had taken in less than half a year before. "I'll start looking for him again after we have breakfast."

"I couldn't eat a bite," Tessa protested.

"You have to, Tessa. It won't help Richie if you get sick. And *you* still have a Thanksgiving dinner to shop for."

"You're right," she said with a determined look. "I have a lot of things still to do."

* HL * HL

He had another restless night. The nightmares about the man with the sword had intermingled with dreams of the blonde woman. Except this time she hadn't been smiling at him, instead she had been angry. He could still see her pacing back in forth in front of him in what looked like a kitchen. She had been smoking a cigarette. And then *he* had come in and told them to get out.

Wait...she had called him something. He tried to remember, to hold onto the memory for just a few more minutes. Richie. That was it. Richie. Was that his name? He said it aloud several times hoping it would bring back other memories. Nothing. Still, he had a name again. Well, half a name.

He grinned to himself as he headed for the park with a jaunty bounce in his step. He was a person again. His bubble burst when he saw the police car parked outside the rest rooms. He quickly turned around and practically ran back to his hiding place.

Once there he huddled in the corner, certain that the police would be there any minute and drag him out. Fear caused his body to start trembling again and his head pounded with renewed force. Eventually he got up enough courage to look outside. Stiff from sitting for so long in one position, he slowly peered out through the windows. He moved from one window to another until he had convinced himself that the police weren't there.

He decided to try the park again, the need to use the facilities there outweighing his fear. This time the park was empty. He dashed into the men's room but didn't take the time to clean up.

Wandering down the street, he tried to decide what he should do. He had the ten dollars in his pocket. He could find a cheap meal somewhere. Or maybe he could go to the Salvation Army store he had seen yesterday, and buy another T-shirt. If he went back to Mama Rosa's tonight maybe he could earn another ten dollars. Either way, he could get another meal. He could hold out until then. His stomach growled to refute that point. Okay, maybe he would eat after all.

He found a small diner nearby. He carefully looked through the menu determined to make his money last. The clock behind the counter showed that it was 11:30. He must have slept later than he realized that morning. He decided on pancakes and then splurged by ordering a large glass of milk.

He ate quickly, uncomfortable with the looks that the waiter kept throwing at him. Maybe it was because his clothes looked like they had been slept in. What did he expect? He *had* slept in them. Still, he had to fight the urge to flee until he had taken that last bite and swallowed the last drop of milk. He paid his bill but didn't leave a tip. He wasn't about to waste any of his money on someone who already had a steady job.

He continued to wander further away from his home base. When he saw a help wanted sign in a hardware store, he decided to ask about it. But when he couldn't provide proof of his age, he was shown politely to the door. Several blocks further, he tried again at a grocery store. They wanted a high school graduate. He told them he had graduated, not knowing whether it was a lie or not, but they insisted they needed confirmation from the school. He gave up and left, wondering what a high school education had to do with stacking cans on a shelf. The next place, a janitorial service, said they would need references and would have to run a check with the police department. He grew angrier and more frustrated at each refusal.

The only good thing about the day was that he had become familiar with his new name. Having to introduce himself over and over as he applied for jobs made the name seem real. He had stuttered the first time when he realized he still didn't know his last name but he had quickly added on Richards figuring that Richie Richards wasn't that bad of a name.

He hadn't realized how much time he had spent looking for a job. The sky had grown dark and he was a long way from home. Plus, Mama Rosa's was in the opposite direction from where he had been going. He started back, his feet starting to burn from the many hours he had been walking already that day.

* HL * HL

Duncan leaned against the T-bird as he filled its gas tank. The day had been a series of frustrations starting with the call from the hospital. The police had identified the dead boy as a runaway from Portland named Jeff Coleman who had a long criminal record. The police refused to tell Duncan what those crimes were since the boy had been a juvenile. Duncan wondered why it mattered, after all, the boy was dead.

It was Tessa who had managed to drag more information from the police. She had worked her way through the levels of bureaucracy until someone gave her the information she wanted. Duncan wished he could have seen her at work. He had been on the receiving end of her anger before and knew how formidable Tessa could be when she was mad. Duncan grinned. The police probably caved in and told her what she wanted to know out of sheer self-preservation.

Coleman had been stabbed during a drug deal gone bad. Several witnesses had seen the whole thing and the police already had the culprit in custody. Tessa had given Duncan the address where it had happened and he spent several hours showing Richie's picture to people in the area but no one could remember seeing him. Tessa had wanted to help him search but Duncan had managed to convince her that someone needed to be home in case Richie tried to contact them. The area where Coleman had died had to be the worst part of town and he wouldn't risk Tessa's life by letting her come along, no matter how much she wanted to help.

Tessa had also managed to pry Coleman's criminal record out of the police. The boy had been charged with a bit of everything, shop lifting, breaking and entering, car theft, assault, as well as several drug possession charges. He had also been the key suspect in two murder investigations, but no charges had been filed due to lack of evidence. In both cases, the body had been found in an alley, minus wallet, rings, and watch, an apparent victim of a mugging. The police theorized that the same thing had occurred to Richie.

The only problem Duncan had with that theory, not that he could share it with the police or Tessa, was that Richie wouldn't have stayed dead. So why hadn't Richie come home? Could he be afraid that Duncan would take his head now that he was Immortal? It didn't make sense. After all, Richie knew that Duncan had taken Felicia in when he thought she was a new Immortal. Or maybe Richie was lying all alone in some dark alley, seriously injured, maybe even dying. That horrifying image remained with Duncan throughout the day, and brought a renewed sense of purpose to his search.

Later in the day, Duncan had spotted a boy wearing a jacket like the one Richie had been wearing the day he disappeared. He had dashed after the boy, determined to find out where he got the jacket. The boy had insisted that his parents had bought him the jacket weeks earlier. It wasn't until the boy's parents had come out of a nearby store and confirmed the story that Duncan finally believed him. He had apologized to the frightened boy and left quickly.

He had visited Richie's friends in person but nobody had seen the boy. He felt like he had been going in circles all day, driving up and down streets, back and forth across town, constantly trying to sense Richie. He had started to lose hope that he would ever find out what happened to the boy.

He decided to call it quits for the day. It was already well past dinner time and he knew that Tessa would be worried about him. Starting to feel the effects of too little sleep, he had been forced to put the top down on the car despite the cold weather in order to stay awake and alert.

An Italian restaurant called Mama Rosa's sat next to the gas station. Duncan could smell the aroma of garlic and pasta drifting over to him. It reminded him that he hadn't eaten much all day. Feeling the gas pump shut off, he pulled the hose out and put the gas cap back on. After paying the attendant, he climbed back in the car, resting his head against the steering wheel for a moment, fighting the wave of weariness and despair that washed over him.

Then he felt it...the unmistakable buzz of a pre-immortal. He quickly scanned the area looking for the source. A boy trudged along the street, weariness showing in each step. As he moved under the lights of the gas station, Duncan gasped in recognition.

"Richie," he yelled as he fumbled for the door handle. In his eagerness, he couldn't seem to find it, but he couldn't take his eyes off the boy coming towards him long enough to look for the handle.

The boy looked up as he heard Duncan calling his name. Duncan could see fear flood his face before he had turned and fled. Duncan sat paralyzed for a moment, unable to believe that Richie was running away from him.

He gave up his search for the door handle and jumped out of the car instead. He ran after Richie but the boy had too big of a head start and the darkness hindered his search. He returned to his car and drove around the area for more than an hour before he conceded defeat, haunted by the look of terror on Richie's face before he had run.

He would return here tomorrow once it was light. At least he knew Richie was still alive and a general area to start looking in. He went home to tell Tessa that he had found Richie only to lose him again.

* HL * HL *

He heard a man calling his name. Looking up, he spotted the man from his nightmares. In shock, Richie turned and ran. Fear and adrenaline gave him the energy he had been lacking just minutes ago when he felt like he could hardly walk another step.

With every stride, he was certain that *he* would catch him. Then *he* would kill him. He struggled for breath, trying to ignore the pain in his side, the pounding in his chest. He had to get away. He could hear *him* behind him, catching up. He stumbled over something in the dark and fell down hard. He lay there, eyes closed, unable to catch his breath, and waited for the sharp blow from a sword. When nothing happened after several minutes, he cautiously rolled over and looked around. He was alone.

His body started to tremble not only from exertion but from fear as well. He had been so certain that he was about to die. He could feel a chill from the cold ground seeping into his body but couldn't make himself move. Not yet.

He finally pulled himself together enough to recognize the danger of lying out in the open like this. He got to his feet, his body protesting the whole way. Looking around, he realized that he was only two blocks from his hiding place. He dragged his aching body the rest of the way, constantly looking from side to side, certain that *he* must still be around, ready to jump out at him when he least expected it.

He gave a sigh of relief once he got inside. He huddled into his bed wanting to reach the forgetfulness of sleep. But every noise, every little sound, every creak of the building would bring new waves of fear. The few times he did drop off to sleep, the nightmares would wake him back up. As the sun started to rise, he finally dropped into an exhausted sleep.

* HL * HL

Duncan parked the T-bird outside the antique store. He dreaded going inside, not wanting to tell Tessa the news. Knowing that putting it off wouldn't make it any easier, he took a deep breath and headed indoors.

Tessa sat on the living room couch, staring into the flames burning brightly in the fireplace. Cookbooks lay scattered on the table in front of her. She looked up when she heard Duncan come in and knew something had happened by the look on his face. "Duncan? What's wrong? What's happened?"

Duncan took his coat off and threw it over a nearby chair before crossing the room. He sat beside Tessa and took her into his arms. "I saw Richie tonight, Tessa. He's alive."

Confusion flooded through Tessa. Why didn't Duncan sound happy about this? She turned to face him. "That's wonderful, Duncan. Is he all right? What happened to him? Where is he?"

"I don't know. Tessa...Tessa he ran away from me." Duncan looked away unable to meet her eyes as guilt burned into his soul.

"He did *what*? Why?" Tessa couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I don't know why." Duncan struggled with the words, wanting to know, needing to know, but unsure of how to ask the question. "Tessa... Richie talked to you all the time. Did he give you any reason to believe he might... be afraid of me? Have I done something... said something that would have made him run away?"

"Duncan! How could you possibly believe that? Of course Richie isn't afraid of you," Tessa adamantly replied.

"Tessa, I saw the look on his face. It was stark and unreasoning fear. I've seen men who are about to die in battle who looked like that."

"Duncan, there must be some mistake. Are you sure it was Richie?"

"There was no way I could be mistaken. It was Richie."

"Well, then maybe he didn't realize who you were."

"Under bright lights? In the T-bird? How could he *not* know it was me?" Tessa couldn't think of any answer to that question. "So what do we do now? Should we contact the police and let them know where you saw Richie? Maybe they can find him."

"I don't know. Maybe Richie doesn't *want* to be found. Maybe he doesn't want to live here anymore. Maybe that's why he left his keys behind." His stomach churned at the thought.

"No, I won't believe it. Not until Richie tells me straight to my face."

Duncan took heart from Tessa's vehement denial. "Okay. I'll start looking again tomorrow. At least now I have a starting point. And I'll give the police a call as well."

"Well, you had better find him tomorrow. Thanksgiving is the day after and someone is going to have to eat all of the food I intend to make." Tessa was rewarded with a brief smile from Duncan at her comment.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Come on." Tessa pulled Duncan to his feet. "You call the police and I'll warm up your supper. After that, you need to get some sleep so that you can be up early to start looking for Richie."

Calling the police had been a mistake. By the end of the phone call, Duncan had almost reached boiling point.

"I can't believe this. Of all the asinine bureaucratic rules."

"What is it, Duncan?" Tessa looked worriedly at him.

"They've canceled the missing person's report on Richie."

"Why would they do that?"

"Since I've seen him and he's not being held against his will, he's not *missing* anymore. They refuse to have anything more to do with a domestic situation especially since Richie is over eighteen. They even hinted that maybe Richie was working with Coleman." He slammed his fist down on the countertop.

"Calm down, Duncan. You will be able to find him yourself without their help." She tried to soothe him. "Here, eat your dinner."

Duncan had an urge to tell her what she could do with his dinner but he knew it wasn't Tessa's fault. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"Yes you are. Now stop acting like a child. Please, Duncan, you need to eat. I doubt you've eaten anything since this morning." She pushed him down onto a stool by the counter.

Duncan glared at her for a minute before sighing. "You're right, Tessa. I am acting like a child." Duncan picked up his fork and forced himself to start eating, the food tasting like sawdust in his mouth.

Once Duncan had finished eating, Tessa led him to their bedroom. She could see how tense and upset he still was over the conversation with the police. Knowing that he would never be able to sleep in this condition, Tessa ordered Duncan to lie down on his stomach in bed. She then proceeded to give him a back massage, working each set of tense muscles until they relaxed. Once done, she climbed into bed beside him, pulling the covers over both of them. Duncan had just enough energy to kiss her gently before he drifted off to sleep.

* HL * HL

Hunger drove him awake. His dreams had once again been about the blonde woman. They had been arguing again but this time it had been him saying hateful things. He couldn't remember what he said to her, but he did remember the hurt look on her face.

He forced himself to his feet, knowing that he would have to make some tough decisions today. He needed to figure out whether he would be safe staying where he was or if it would be better to move somewhere else. While the warehouse wasn't the most comfortable place to stay, at least if felt familiar. Still, if *he* should find him...

He carefully checked out the area before leaving the building. He went to the park and the restrooms there. With no police in sight, he took the time to do another sponge bath. He really wanted to wash out his clothes but with nothing else to wear, he didn't know how he could manage it. He didn't want to run around in wet clothes all day.

He checked his money supply. It would be enough for one more meal. He started to look for another diner, unwilling to eat at the same place twice in a row. Especially after the way that waiter had stared at him.

He found another place, this time in a different direction from where he had gone before. He ordered a hamburger and a Coke. He could smell French Fries cooking and they made his mouth water. He checked his money again but it just wouldn't spread that far. He debated ordering a huge meal and splitting without paying for it, but he didn't want to attract the cops' attention right now. He may have to do that tomorrow but he would pick a place far away from where he was living.

After eating, he started looking for a new place to live. The few places that even looked promising had already been claimed by other homeless people. None of them invited him to join their group. Some groups he avoided as soon as he saw them, certain his life would be in even more danger from them than the man of his nightmares. He continued walking dejectedly down the sidewalk. Soon the sun would be setting and he had no place to go but the warehouse. With no money left, he had to choose between going hungry, searching through trash cans, or risk going back to Mama Rosa's.

He never noticed the black car coming down the side street behind him. Nor did he see it quickly swerve to the curb and the man climb out from behind the wheel, quietly shutting the car door behind him. His first indication of trouble came as a shadow was cast over him by the setting sun. Looking back, he saw *him* again, less than six feet away. He gasped and started running.

Unfamiliar with the area, he headed down a long alley, knocking over trash cans to slow down his pursuer, only to find a brick wall at the end. He couldn't see any way to escape except maybe by climbing some crates piled along the wall. He started climbing up them and he could almost reach the top of the wall when a hand closed around his ankle. He gave a sob as the hand tightened and started dragging him back down. He had been so close. His hands clawed at the wall, trying to find something, anything to hold on to but he felt himself being pulled back down.

The crates started wobbling and the hand let go as he started to fall. He rolled as he hit the ground and quickly sprang to his feet, grabbing a pipe laying nearby. He turned to face the man from his nightmares. "St... stay back. I'll hurt you. I swear." He held the pipe menacingly in front of him.

"Richie, why are you doing this?" No response. "Please, put the pipe down so we can talk."

"Talk about what? You killing me?" He wildly swung out with the pipe.

Duncan ducked the swing and then quickly disarmed the boy. When Richie started using his fists, Duncan swung the boy around, pushing him up against the wall. "Stop it, Richie. I don't want to hurt you."

The fight went out of Richie. "Please don't kill me. I swear, I won't tell anyone that you killed her. Not even the cops. Please. You don't have to kill me." Richie's voice wavered.

Duncan couldn't believe what he was hearing. He turned the boy back around and saw overwhelming terror evident in the boy's eyes.

"What are you talking about, Richie?"

"Please. I won't tell anyone you killed her. Please."

Seeing Richie pleading like this brought an ache to Duncan's heart. He took the boy's face between his hands only to have the boy knock them away and make an attempt at escape. Duncan grabbed him by the arms and pushed him back against the wall. "Richie, who do you think I killed?"

"You know who. I saw you run her through with your sword on that beach. But I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Beach? What was Richie talking about? "You mean Felicia? Is that what this is all about? Richie, you know I didn't kill her. You asked me not to, don't you remember?"

"No, you're lying. I saw her die. She was laying there...' He couldn't continue as his head started to pound once again.

"But I didn't take her head, Richie. Because *you* asked me not to."

"What do you mean-take her head. She was already dead. How many times did you need to kill her?"

Suddenly it dawned on Duncan what the problem really was. "Richie, look at me. Do you know who I am? *What* I am? What my name is?"

"No." Richie refused to meet Duncan's eyes. "I... I can't remember anything, not even my own name or yours. So you don't have to worry about me telling the police anything."

"Listen carefully, Richie. I'm your friend and I want to help you. Let me take you to the hospital where we can get you some help."

"No! I won't go to the hospital! Please, don't make me." Richie pulled away from Duncan and sank to the ground, curling into a ball.

Duncan didn't want to push Richie too hard, afraid that the boy would snap. He remembered Richie telling them about his bad experience in a hospital before he came to live with them. Afraid of being sent to yet another foster home, Richie had tried to flee the hospital only to be physically restrained and drugged into submission. Even when he had been knifed by a purse snatcher after he had moved in with Tessa and Duncan, he had resisted going to the hospital. But Richie had passed out and by the time he woke up, he had already been in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

He gently pulled Richie back to his feet. "All right, no hospital. Just come home..."

Suddenly, Duncan felt the touch of another Immortal. Turning around, he noticed a large man walking down the alley toward him, sword already out and ready. He glanced back at Richie, unsure of how the boy would handle seeing another sword fight before drawing his katana and going to face the oncoming Immortal.

"I'm Jarod Kingston and *you* are dead." The other Immortal announced, arrogance dripping from every word.

"I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod and I have no quarrel with you." Maybe he could talk the other Immortal out of fighting. "There is no reason for us to fight."

"You live, that's reason enough," Kingston grinned evilly.

"If you insist but my friend's not part of this." Duncan waved towards Richie. "Let him leave and then we'll fight." Duncan hated the thought of losing track of Richie again but it had to be better than risking the boy's sanity or maybe his life if the other Immortal won.

"Sure, why not. I'm feeling generous today. He can go."

Duncan called back over his shoulder, "Richie, please leave. You don't want to see this. Go to my car and wait for me there. *Now*." When he didn't hear any movement behind him, he risked a glance over his shoulder. Richie appeared to be in a trance, staring at the two of them with a blank look on his face.

"Well, I guess he wants to see you die. So be it," Kingston said as he attacked.

Duncan parried the first attack but he was hard pressed to keep up his defense. Kingston was good, very good, maybe even better than Duncan. As the fight progressed, both men scored various hits against the other but Duncan's injuries were more severe than Kingston's. The other Immortal had managed to slide through Duncan's defense and place a deep slice across his abdomen. Duncan thought he heard a strangled cry come from behind him when it happened but couldn't be sure.

Duncan knew he was losing this fight. While not fearing death himself, he knew that if he died, Kingston would be able to sense Richie's pre-immortal buzz. He knew that the boy would follow him in death at Kingston's hand. It wasn't fair. Richie was still a boy with so much to see and do, so many experiences waiting for him.

Once again, Kingston broke through Duncan's defenses, this time sending his sword deep into Duncan's left shoulder. But in his eagerness to follow up with the killing stroke, Kingston failed to notice the pipe laying on the ground. The very pipe that Richie had used to threaten Duncan earlier now became Duncan's salvation. Kingston lost his balance as the pipe rolled under his foot. Duncan seized the opportunity, running his katana into Kingston's chest. Kingston's face showed disbelief as he slowly fell to his knees, his sword clattering to the ground.

"There can be only one!" Duncan said as he sliced his opponent's head off. Moments later his body was assaulted with the quickening. It seemed to go on forever and once done, Duncan collapsed to his knees.

Duncan staggered to his feet and back to Richie's side. The look on the boy's face frightened him more than anything else had over the last few days. The closest word he could find to describe it was horror but it was so much more than that.

"Richie? Richie, are you all right?" He carefully placed his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Mac?"

That one word, spoken in such a broken tone, sent a shaft of pain through Duncan's heart until he realized what Richie had said.

"Yes, Richie. It's me, Mac." He tried to reassure the boy but he wanted to grab him and ask him what he remembered. Slow and easy, he cautioned himself, not wanting to send the boy into a panic.

"Mac? He hurt you?" Richie reached out and tentatively touched where Kingston's sword had sliced into Duncan.

"Yes, Richie, but remember I heal quickly." He tried a tentative probe to see if Richie's memory was coming back.

Richie frowned. "Yes. You're...you're...Immortal?"

"That's right," Duncan said. "Listen, Richie, we have to get out of here. Will you come home with me? We'll talk more there."

"You...you won't hurt me?"

"No, Richie. I promise I won't hurt you."

Duncan waited as Richie thought about it. He was about to insist, forcibly if necessary, when Richie finally nodded agreement. He helped the boy to his feet and placing an arm around the boy's shoulders, guided his tentative footsteps down the alley and back to the car.

"Mac, my head hurts and everything's all jumbled up inside."

"Take it easy, Richie. As soon as we get home, I'll get a doctor to come and take a look at you."

Richie tried to pull away from Duncan. "No hospitals! You promised." His voice rose in fear and panic.

Duncan tightened his grip. "No hospitals, Richie, just a doctor." He would fight that battle later if the doctor thought it necessary. "Now come on, Richie, Tessa will be waiting."

"Tessa?"

"Do you remember Tessa? She lives with us."

"She's mad at me," Richie replied.

"No, she's not mad at you. She's been very worried about you and so have I." Duncan felt like he was dealing with a young child instead of a teenager but he could see how confused Richie was.

"You were?" Richie frowned. "Why?"

Duncan wondered if Richie knew how long he had been missing. Arriving at the car, Duncan cajoled Richie into the passenger seat. "Come on, Richie, I bet Tessa's fixing us dinner even now. Doesn't a hot meal sound good?"

"French Fries. I really wanted French Fries. They smelled so good but I couldn't have any."

Duncan had no idea what Richie was talking about. "Why couldn't you have any, Richie?"

"Because." Richie sounded like that should explain everything.

Duncan bit back a groan of frustration. "Why don't you sit back and relax, Richie. We'll be home soon." His foot pressed down harder on the accelerator. Maybe Tessa would be able to make some sense of what Richie was saying.

* HL * HL

Richie sat quietly and watched as streets flew by. His mind, bombarded by images, strived desperately to make sense of them all. When he had seen Duncan cut by the other Immortal's sword, it seemed like a door had opened in his mind. Duncan threatening him with a sword, the fight on the bridge, Duncan offering him a home, the fight with Felicia, Duncan walking away leaving her head intact.

He felt the car slow down and stop. They were parked outside an antique store. More images. Using a glass cutter on a window, a man dropping through the skylight, flying a paper airplane from a walkway, grabbing a sword to defend himself against a man looking for Felicia. He moaned as he felt overcome by the memory overload.

Duncan heard the moan but he assumed it came from physical pain. He ushered the boy inside, wanting to get on the phone to a friend who was a doctor as soon as possible. Richie seemed unwilling to move past the door when in reality, he was trying to take in everything he could see, to place it in a slot alongside the images flashing through his mind.

"Duncan, is that you?" Duncan heard Tessa call from the living room. He wished he could have warned her somehow about Richie's condition.

"Did you have any luck...Richie!" Tessa paused in the doorway between the shop and the living area before hurrying across the shop towards them. "Thank God you're all right. We've been so worried." She reached out to hug the boy but stopped herself as he flinched back. "What's..." She stopped her sentence as she saw Duncan shake his head behind Richie's back.

"What's for dinner, Tessa? We're starving, aren't we, Richie?" Duncan tried to relax the boy who looked ready to bolt.

Richie tentatively nodded his head and looked down at his feet. He noticed the condition of his clothes and became aware of how badly he smelled. Suddenly getting clean seemed to be the most important thing in the world. "I...I need to take a shower first."

"Sure, Richie. Come on. I'll just check to make sure you've got clean towels in your bathroom." Duncan didn't know if Richie would remember where his room was so he subtly led the way there, not wanting to embarrass him in case he did remember. "Come on out whenever you're ready. We will be in the kitchen."

Duncan shut the door of Richie's room as he left and headed for the kitchen. He called his friend Dr. Williams, explained about Richie's disappearance and his current condition as Tessa listened and asked him to come and take a look at the boy. The doctor agreed and promised to be there within the hour.

"Amnesia? Oh, Duncan! What must he have gone through, not knowing who he was or where he lived? Where did he stay? How did he find anything to eat?"

"I don't know, Tessa. Only Richie can answer those questions. I think his memory is starting to come back but I'm just not sure. Either way, he's going to need our support to get through this."

"Why didn't you take him directly to the hospital? They must have all kinds of equipment and tests they could run."

"I wanted to but he almost fell apart when I suggested it. You know how he feels about hospitals, Tessa. If the doctor thinks it's best, I'll get him there somehow. Until then, I don't want to scare him off again," Duncan explained. "Let's take it one step at a time, starting with a good meal. I doubt he's eaten much lately. I don't suppose we have French Fries, do we?"

"I think so. I remember buying some on Saturday." Tessa went to check the freezer. "But why French Fries?"

Duncan explained the weird conversation he had with Richie in the car.

"Okay. French Fries it is. I already have a meat loaf in the oven. If you want to make a salad, I'll cook the Fries." Tessa bustled around the kitchen as she finished the dinner.

* HL * HL *

Richie watched the door close behind Duncan. He glanced around his room. Everything looked vaguely familiar yet strange too. He couldn't have told anyone what was in the room and yet he recognized things. He opened his closet door and fingered through the clothes, reacquainting himself with the selection. After moments of indecision, he closed his eyes and grabbed the first shirt his hands touched. He repeated the process with the jeans. He tossed them on the bed and headed for the adjoining bathroom.

The sight of the shower reminded him of how dirty he felt. He quickly stripped his clothes off and jammed them into the waste basket sitting by the sink. He never wanted to see them again. He turned the shower on and had to force himself to wait for the temperature to regulate itself. Once the temperature was set, he climbed in the shower and gave a deep sigh of pleasure. The warm water cascading over his head and shoulders felt so good, his body warming up for the first time in days. He could feel his tense muscles start to relax as the warmth penetrated.

He finally forced himself to reach for the shampoo and started washing his hair. He gave a little hiss as his fingers brushed against the wound on his scalp. He knew it must have healed somewhat otherwise the shampoo would have caused it to hurt more. He rinsed his head and then reached for the shampoo again, feeling the need to make sure he had got all of the filth out. Finally satisfied, he grabbed the soap and starting lathering his body, scrubbing hard with the bath sponge, almost taking the skin off in his obsession to get clean. The water had started to cool down before he felt clean enough to get out of the shower.

Climbing out of the shower, he wrapped himself in a towel. Searching the medicine cabinet, he found his toothbrush and set to work cleaning his teeth. Once done, he went back into the bedroom, satisfied that he had done everything he could to wash away the past few days.

He dressed quickly but when it came to leaving the room, he felt very reluctant, not sure if he wanted to face Duncan and Tessa until he could sort out his memories. The smells drifting from the kitchen changed his mind as his stomach reminded him of how little it had been fed recently. Taking a deep breath, he followed the tantalizing smells.

Tessa spotted Richie hesitating in the doorway first. "Richie, what good timing. Dinner is ready. Why don't you sit down while Duncan and I finish dishing up the food."

Richie couldn't decide which chair to sit down in. Even the simplest decisions seemed like major hurdles. A moment of fear hit as he remembered something from his childhood. One of his foster fathers had hit him simply because he had been sitting in *his* chair at the table.

Duncan saw the flash of fear cross the boy's face. He stifled a sigh, wondering what was going through Richie's mind. Setting the salad on the table, he pulled out Richie's chair and practically forced him to sit. "Come on, Richie, sit down. Tessa even made you French Fries."

"Really?" Richie smiled at the thought.

"Yes, really." Seeing Richie smile like that brought an answering smile to Duncan's face. For a moment, he could almost believe the last few days had just been a horrid nightmare.

Duncan helped Tessa bring the rest of the food to the table. For a while they were all too busy filling their plates with food and then eating to have much conversation. Duncan watched indulgently as Richie practically shoveled the food into his mouth, unaware that his own plate was emptying almost as fast as the boy's.

As the dinner progressed, the silence around the table became more obvious. Both Duncan and Tessa were brimming with questions but neither of them wanted to disturb the fragile sense of peace. Neither of them wanted to bring up people or incidents that Richie might not remember nor did they want to start questioning him about the last four days until they could be in a more relaxed environment.

Richie noticed the tension around the table but kept his eyes fastened on his plate, afraid to look at either of them in case they started asking questions he couldn't answer. He knew that time would come once dinner was done so he slowed down his eating only to discover his plate was almost empty. He quickly piled some more food on it trying to delay the inevitable. But soon even that was gone and he knew he couldn't force another bite down his throat. When he heard the knock at the door, his relief at the reprieve overwhelmed him until Duncan came back with a middle aged man he introduced as Dr. Williams.

Richie tried to quell the panic as the doctor shook his hand and then suggested they go to his room so that he could examine him. He felt like a man going to his execution as he lead the way. He only dimly heard the doctor asking Tessa and Duncan to wait in the kitchen.

Duncan watched in frustration as the two figures went towards Richie's room. He could only hope that his friend didn't push Richie too hard. With a sigh, he started clearing the table, trying to keep his mind off of what was happening in Richie's room. The kitchen was spotless, the dishes washed, dried and put away, and Duncan and Tessa had just sat down at the table with cups of coffee when the doctor reappeared.

"How's Richie?" Duncan asked as he got up to pour his friend a cup of coffee.

"Physically, he's in pretty good shape. Nothing that some good meals and plenty of rest won't cure. In fact, he's probably asleep already, he could hardly keep his eyes open by the time the exam was done. He has a large cut on his head, but it's healing nicely. I can't find any indication of internal bleeding although it would take a CT or MRI scan to make certain."

"Are these scans necessary?" Duncan didn't know how he was going to get Richie into a hospital long enough to have them done.

"At this point, I would say no. Judging from the amount of healing that has occurred, he was probably hit the same night he disappeared. If there was internal bleeding, the signs should have shown up by now. However, should Richie start having slurred speech, partial paralysis, or increased lethargy, get him to a hospital as soon as possible."

"What about the amnesia?" Tessa asked.

"It's hard to say. The mind is a strange thing. Nobody knows what causes amnesia. Sometimes a blow to the head can cause it but total loss of memory from this is very rare. It can also be caused by psychological trauma. It's a defense mechanism the mind uses to escape reality."

"So what you're saying is that there's something Richie doesn't want to remember so his mind has shut down all memories?" Duncan felt sick as he thought about what could have happened that was so bad that Richie wouldn't want to remember it.

"Don't start jumping to conclusions, Duncan. The blow to the head may be the sole cause of the amnesia. We just don't know enough about how the brain functions."

"So what do we do now? How do we help him?" Tessa wanted to know. "If the head wound was the cause, rest and time are the only remedies. If not, well I'm not a psychiatrist. He may need professional help to work through the trauma."

"He appears to be remembering some things. Is that normal? Does it mean that his memory is coming back?" Duncan asked.

"Sometimes it works like that. Bits and pieces start to come back. It's usually a good sign but it could take weeks or months for the memories to all come back or they may never come back at all. Or it could all come back at once. It depends on the person and the cause of the amnesia. He may also forget everything that happened between the point where he lost his memory and the point where he regains it. The mind works in very strange ways. Maybe some day we will be able to understand it." He glanced at his watch. "I really must be going. Is there anything else you want to know before I leave?"

Duncan glanced at Tessa who shook her head. "I guess that about covers it. Thanks so much for coming here tonight." He walked his friend to the door. "I can't even begin to tell you how much this means to us."

"You're welcome, Duncan. I'm glad I could be of some help."

After showing the doctor out, Duncan stopped by Richie's room. He quietly opened the door, not wanting to wake the boy if he was asleep. In the dim light, he saw Richie sprawled across the bed, sound asleep, still wearing the same clothes he had put on for dinner. Duncan pulled a spare blanket from the closet and carefully covered the boy. He stood there for several minutes just watching Richie sleep, glad that he was home again, and praying for guidance on how to help him.

When an arm slipped around his waist, he jumped, startled from his thoughts. He looked down at Tessa as she also watched Richie, glad to see a smile on her face again. He hugged her briefly before leading her from the room.

* HL * HL

Duncan and Tessa sat at the kitchen table the next morning, nursing cups of coffee as they ran through the list of things they needed to do. The turkey had been put in the oven, Tessa had made the pies and rolls the previous day as well as cooking the cranberry sauce. They both looked up, startled as Richie careened into the kitchen.

"Oh man, I'm sorry. I must've forgot to set my alarm clock. I'll have the shop open..." his voice trailed off as he noticed Duncan and Tessa staring open-mouthed at him. "What did I do now?"

Duncan found his voice first. "Sit down, Richie."

"That bad, huh? Uh...I really think I should go open the shop." He swallowed nervously.

"Richie, it's Thanksgiving so there's no reason to open the shop."

"Thanksgiving? How can it be Thanks..." Richie went pale and he sank into the nearest chair.

"Richie, are you all right?" Tessa asked anxiously.

"I'm fine. It's just...I can remember." A stunned look crossed his face.

"You can remember?" Duncan asked. "Everything?"

"Yeah. I can remember." Richie grinned broadly at Duncan and Tessa. "Everything... I think..."

"So what happened to you?" Duncan asked.

"Duncan, why don't you let Richie eat breakfast first before you start interrogating him." Tessa interrupted.

Duncan wanted to protest but he could see the sense behind Tessa's words. He went to the stove and made an omelet for the boy while Richie started on a grapefruit half that Tessa had fetched from the refrigerator. After giving Richie his omelet, Duncan sat back down at the table with a fresh cup of coffee. He tried to not let his impatience show but he had a feeling Tessa could see it by the way she kept smiling every time she glanced at him.

Finally, Richie laid his fork down and sat back with a sigh. "That was great, Mac. You sure know how to make an omelet."

"Thanks, Richie. Can we start now?" Duncan glanced over at Tessa for confirmation. At her nod, he asked again. "So what happened to you, Richie?"

Richie had been thinking about what to say while he ate. "I'm not quite sure. I was walking down the street when I heard a voice calling for help in this alley. I saw this blond kid about my age huddled on the ground. I went over to see what the problem was and the next thing I remember was waking up with a splitting headache and I didn't know who or where I was."

"Did the kid hit you or was it someone else, Richie?" Duncan questioned.

"It's kind of a blur, Mac. I'm really not sure."

"Try to remember, Richie. We need to know if there was anyone else there that the police should be looking for."

Richie replayed the scene in his head. Going into the alley, seeing the kid on the ground, walking over to him, leaning over and... "It was *him*," he exclaimed. "He had a board hidden where I couldn't see it. When I bent over him to see what was wrong, he hit me with it. I can still see the grin on his face as he did it." Richie shuddered at the memory.

"Are you sure, Richie?"

"Yeah. The creep must have stolen my wallet and watch and dumped me at the back of the alley." Richie could feel his anger growing. "He took the watch that *you* gave me. If I ever get my hands on that creep, I'll... I'll..."

"He's already dead, Richie. At least we think he is." Duncan got up and fetched something from kitchen counter. "I think these belong to you." He handed Richie his wallet and watch.

Richie's face lit up. He quickly fastened the watch back on his wrist, before checking out his wallet. A disappointed look crossed his face as he noted the lack of money in the wallet. "How did you get these? And what do you mean, you *think* he's dead?"

Duncan explained about their summons to the hospital. "The police will probably want you to come in and identify the body. Since he had your wallet and watch, I'm sure it's the same person. But that can wait for tomorrow."

"So what happened after you woke up in the alley," Tessa prompted.

Richie's face flushed. "Um...I found a place to crash...and well... I just hung out until Mac found me. No big deal."

Duncan had a feeling that Richie had left out a great deal. But that story could wait for another day after Richie had a chance to recover from the trauma of the past few days. "The important thing is that you're here and you have your memory back. Welcome home, Richie." He reached over and lightly squeezed the boy's shoulder.

"Yes. Welcome home, Richie." Tessa came around the table, kissed Richie's cheek and gave him a quick hug.

"Um...thanks guys. It...it feels good to be here too." Richie didn't quite know how to express himself. "I can't believe I forgot all of this. I mean... these past few months have been the best in my life. I know there have been times when I wished I could forget things in my past but if forgetting the bad things that happened means forgetting the good things as well, then I guess I'd rather remember it all."

"One more question, Richie. Why didn't you take your keys with you?" Duncan asked the boy.

"My keys?" Richie looked perplexed for a moment and then a sheepish grin crossed his face. "Would you believe... I...um... forgot them?"

The three of them looked at each other for a moment before they all started to laugh.

Glad that the conversation had slipped away from all that emotional stuff, Richie asked, "So, if the shop isn't open today, what are we going to do? Inventory? Bookwork? Rearrange the shop? What?"

"Well, I thought we could do all of those today," Duncan grinned at Richie's panicked look. "But it's a holiday and we are going to celebrate."

"But...but Tessa said you didn't celebrate Thanksgiving. That it didn't mean anything special to you." Richie looked confused.

Tessa spoke up. "I was wrong, Richie. Today is special and will always be special from this year on. Today is the day that you came back to us. I can't think of a better reason to give thanks."

"Aw...Tessa." Richie blushed.

"Now, if we're going to have this big dinner, there are still a thousand things to do," General Tessa reviewed her troops before starting to give orders. "Richie, you can start peeling potatoes. Duncan, you can get out the good silver and china."

Richie protested. "But, Tessa, I've been injured and lost my memory and I really need to rest..." His voice trailed off when Tessa gave him one of *those* looks. "Potatoes, right. How many should I peel?"

The hours passed quickly with much laughter and teasing between all of them. If Richie sometimes had to be reminded where something was, no one made an issue of it. They were all too happy to be together on this special day to let anything mar the celebration. When Richie had grown pale from exhaustion, the lack of sleep over the previous days catching up to him, Tessa and Duncan had overrode his protests and sent him back to bed.

Refreshed from his nap, Richie stared as Duncan carefully set the turkey on the table. The table, laden with food, set with fine china, crystal and silver, candles burning in an elegant centerpiece that Tessa had created, was the most beautiful and wonderful thing Richie had ever seen in his whole life.

Richie swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. "I don't know if I ever said this, but thanks for giving me a home. I can't imagine what my life would be like now if you hadn't taken me in when you did. These last few days have reminded me of what my life could have been like if I had stayed on the streets. It wasn't a good feeling."

"You're welcome, Richie," Duncan replied. "But you've brought something special to our lives as well. For instance, if it hadn't been for you, this," Duncan waved at the table in front of him. "would not have happened. Tessa and I would have spent a quiet day together, had a nice meal but nothing like this."

"The place felt so empty while you were missing, Richie. It made me realize how much you've added to our lives," Tessa added.

"It was quieter though," Duncan teased.

"I'll work on it. Honest. I promise. I'll be so quiet you'll never know I was here. Yeah, quiet as a mouse. Not even a squeak. I can do that. No problem. No noise..."

"So much for promises." Duncan interrupted Richie.

"So are you going to carve that turkey today or not, Mac?" Richie asked.

"Maybe he needs to use his sword instead of the carving knife." Tessa joined in the teasing.

Duncan got to work, proving he could use a knife just as easily as his sword. Before he had a chance to sit back down, Richie had already claimed one of the drumsticks.

Duncan raised his wineglass in a toast. "To friends."

Tessa chimed in. "To family."

Richie thought for a moment. "To memories."

The chime of fine crystal clinking together rang through the dining area as their glasses touched.

"Happy Thanksgiving," they said in unison.

The end.

Author's Notes:

The story of Richie's first run in with the gang members is from Old Friends, New Friends. It's sequel, Richie's Best Friend tells the story of Sam, the golden retriever.


End file.
